He was enough for her
by Cute as a button22
Summary: This story is a little darker than my previous ones. Isabella's being bullied by the classic "mean girl" at her school and hasn't told anyone. Will someone (hint hint) save her from the line of fire? Why am I so bad at summaries? T for suicidal thoughts (I don't want to underrate it), but it might pass as K . If it can, tell me. I like K better, but I'm not sure. Just read, okay?


**A/N: Alright everyone, this is my first attempt at something a little deeper. Isabella is being abused and hasn't had the guts to tell anyone, so nothing's gotten better. Bullying is a huge and underrated problem. I've been bullied myself (although not physically) and trust me, it's worse than it sounds. But this story is going to have a happy one-shotish ending, I hate sad endings. So, pay attention. This could be you and your friends. Tell someone if this is you. It can got better.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Phineas and Ferb, I wouldn't even bother with this website; I could do anything that I wanted!**

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"Hey, Smelly-Bella," said a cruel and familiar feminine voice. _Oh no, _Isabella thought desperately. _Not here, not now…_ Isabella clasped her history book and essay to her chest, looking down and hunching over. She carefully averted her eyes as the owner of the voice—Arlene—smirked; shoving her harshly and making her drop her books. Isabella quickly fell to the floor and began to gather her things; her history class would start any minute, and she needed an "A" of this project, badly. Arlene just snickered.

Arlene was the cliché mean girl in every high school; spray tanned, vicious, and at least thirty percent plastic. She wore clothes that wouldn't fit a two year old, had long perfectly strait brunette hair, and wore _way _too much eye make-up. She was surrounded by her usual posse of dim-witted bleach blonde walking fashion labels, who giggled madly at the sight of Isabella grabbing for her essay. Arlene snatched it from Izzy's fumbling hands, holding it with only her thumb and pointer finger like a dead toad. "What is _this _supposed to be?" She quickly scanned the title before raising an overly-plucked eyebrow. Isabella had learned to hate that eyebrow. It always meant something bad.

"It—it's my history essay," Isabella mumbled. The assignment had been to write about a favorite pass time, and she had spent hours on the computer to guarantee a ninety percent or above grade. The raven-haired girl always did extremely well in her classes, but she was a bit of an over-achiever. It's why her teachers loved her and Arlene loved to pick on her.

"'The Amazing Flynn-Fletcher Duo'?" Arlene read to title mockingly. "Ha, more like the 'I love Flynn but he doesn't love me' essay!" Arlene's walking Botox puppets laughed harshly. Isabella slumped harder, standing up slowly, still clutching her book like a life raft. She looked around for a point of exit, but the school hallways were empty of teachers and hall monitors; the final bell had rung ten minutes before. Isabella was too late—trapped.

Arlene slowly stepped forward, cornering Isabella against the traffic-cone orange lockers behind her. The poor girl hunched her shoulders in fear, letting her hair slip over her face. Isabella had used to be a pretty brave girl; she was leader of her Fireside Girls troop when she was younger. But she was too old to be a Fireside Girl now, at age fifteen. She and the girls still hung out, but it wasn't the same. And then Arlene had popped up this year—in her first year of high school.

It had started with teasing. How she almost always hung out with guys. The fact that she had a tom-boyish side. Her perfect grade point average. But Arlene had never gotten bored with her like most bullies eventually do. The taunts had escalated to her looks, her personality, even hitting her sometimes, and finally the worst of all. Arlene discovered her five year crush on her best friend Phineas Flynn.

Phineas had become incredibly popular in high school, although he didn't really enjoy the attention. He was tall, handsome, smart, and could pretty much defy the laws of physics. He was the unattainable prize of every girl in the school. Sure, he'd never accepted any offers for dates or dance partners, but it didn't change the fact that girls kept trying. Isabella's only comfort was that Phineas had never dropped her friendship. He had always been there for her, although he had started to notice her rapid decline in confidence for a while, and questioned her on it all the time. Isabella didn't want to admit to him that she couldn't handle a few bullies, so she covered it up the best she could, hiding her bruises under long sleeves and putting on a cheerful face. But it was getting so much worse. She had seriously considered suicide more than once. Phineas was the only thought that kept her going. And as soon as Arlene had realized what Phineas meant to Isabella, she had gone out of her way to make sure she tempted Phineas' resolve every chance she got.

Arlene would let her shirts "slip", every time she saw him.

She would hint at dates, but thankfully Phineas would always politely blow her off.

She even once tried the "slip and fall on his mouth" move, but she had accidentally hit Baljeet instead. He had promptly fainted.

"Phineas would never love you," Arlene hissed into Isabella's ear, her lip gloss giving off a sickly scent. "Just look at yourself. You're hideous."

Isabella glanced down at her outfit. She wore a plaid skirt that went halfway to her knees paired with a matching navy vest. Under the vest she wore a starched white bloused with puffed short sleeves. She also wore knee-high leather boots and a blue bow on top of her head. Isabella had liked the outfit that morning when she had put it on, but now that Arlene said it, Isabella realized how dumb she must look. She probably looked like a private school reject. Isabella had been doing that a lot; taking Arlene's opinions over her own, even though she was scared to death of the girl. She truly believed that she was completely repulsive.

"I…um…" Isabella didn't seem to be able to finish a sentence with Arlene breathing down her neck. Her pulse quickened and her hands began to tremble.

"I mean, who would _ever _think _you _were beautiful?" Arlene snarled. She raised her fist back, completely prepared to punch Isabella in the face. Isabella winced and steeled herself for the oncoming blow, already thinking about how much makeup she'd have to use to hide the resulting black eye from Phineas. But then she heard a familiar—and lifesaving—voice.

"I would."

"Phineas!" Both girls turned gasped at the same time; Isabella with relief, Arlene with fear. Arlene quickly stuck her fist behind her back, giving Phineas a whitening-strip shinny grin, shamelessly flirting. "Phineas, hi!" Arlene seemed to be pretending that Phineas hadn't seen anything. "I'm sorry; Izzy and I here were just chatting. What did you say?"

"You asked who would ever think Isabella was beautiful." Phineas said simply. His long and messy red hair was swept sideways over his eyes, making him look, in Isabella's opinion, even more handsome than normal. His orange tee shirt moved up and down with every angry breath and his arms—covered in an orange and black striped shirt he wore under his tee—were at his side, his hands clenched into fists. His jeans fell over his black Converse, which were placed apart on the ground. "You asked who would ever think Isabella was beautiful." Phineas repeated. "I said that I would."

"Oh, Phineas!" Isabella cried, breaking free from a rapidly reddening Arlene. She rushed into his open arms, and he pulled her as close as he could.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered sadly. "Ms. Humphrey sent me from history class to find you; you're never late to class. But Isabella, we could've stopped this sooner. How long has this been going on?"

"The beginning of the year," Isabella whimpered in shame.

Phineas' clenched his teeth. "That's why you've been acting so strange,"

"Yeah," Isabella felt tears pricking her eyes, and suddenly she was sobbing. _No, _she thought, _my makeup… _But it was too late. Her tears washed away the layer of powder she had used to cover cuts and bruises on her face.

Phineas' eyes widened, and he scanned her body, looking for more injuries. "Has she hit you anywhere else?" He demanded.

"I—I never said that she hit me," Isabella lied feebly. Phineas just looked at her, his beautiful blue eyes demanding an answer. "Well, nowhere else… too important," Isabella whispered sadly. She could feel the pain from the damage on her stomach from breathing so hard, and she winced slightly. Phineas noticed. His eyes traveled to her lower body, and he gently lifted the hem of Isabella's shirt, revealing her navel. Her stomach was an awful display of multicolored bruises—green and yellow and brown and purple. Isabella sucked in her breath as Phineas' face hardened with each bit of her pain her saw.

"Show me your shoulders." He told her. He wasn't asking permission. Isabella slowly and carefully pushed up the sleeves of her blouse, showing Phineas scars and open cuts and scratch marks from manicured fingernails. Arlene had done her job well. She had completely broken Isabella, physically and emotionally, all while hiding it from sight from everyone who mattered. Phineas' eyes were blazing with anger.

The red-haired boy never let go of Isabella, but he turned to Arlene, who had just been staring open mouthed. Her gang had fled. She was alone. "If you _ever _try to touch her again," Phineas growled, "I will tell the principal. If that doesn't work… then I'll have to do something myself." Phineas was obviously containing the urge to hit her, right there and then. Arlene nodded furiously and ran down the hallway.

Isabella was amazed. Phineas, the pacifist, was threatening violence to protect her. "Phineas," she whispered. "Did you…did you mean what you said about me being beautiful?"

Phineas let out the anger he had been holding inside of him in one long exhale and looked at her solemnly. "Isabella, I've thought you were beautiful since we were ten years old. I've just never had the guts to tell you."

Isabella sniffed, pulling away so she could look at his face. "Really?"

Phineas smiled slightly, holding her hands. "Really." Phineas bent and picked up Isabella's discarded essay. He pulled her slightly down the hall, edging her towards their history classroom. "C'mon," he smiled. "I believe you have an essay on…" I scanned the title of her story and smiled, "'The Amazing Flynn-Fletcher Duo' to give."

Isabella smiled wide. She knew that this chapter of her life was over—the scared, timid little Isabella was locked away inside her, hopefully for good. And now she knew she was beautiful. After all, Phineas Flynn could disprove quantum physics. Why should she doubt him if he thought she was pretty? Isabella knew, that even if Phineas was the only boy in the world who thought she was pretty, she wouldn't care.

He was, and always will be, enough for her.

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**A/N: See? Happy now! I just cant do depressing stories, it's to...depressing, I guess. And I should be putting up chapter two of "The-Not-So-Private Mind" in a few minutes, I'm just need to proof read and add the author's note.**

**Ciao, everyone**

**-Cutie**


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